“That was my intention,” replied the boy, straightening up and lifting his hat, and then his dark blue eyes brightened quickly, as he perceived Nita’s companion.
Nathalie was now introduced to Mr. Van Darrell, the son of a friend of Nita’s mother, and then the little group were chatting merrily as they waited for Dr. Gilmour, and Mrs. Van Vorst, who had gone to order the car to take them to the foot of the Trail that led to the top of Garnet Mountain.
All at once young Darrell turned towards Nathalie as he said, “But, Miss Page, have we not met before? Were you not one of the girls at Camp Mills one day last month, who asked a party of us if we did not want some cherries? And then, if I remember rightly, we all helped you to gather up the fruit after you had knocked the basket from the car.”
“Oh, yes, I remember you,” dimpled Nathalie. “No, not when I met you that day at the Flume, although your face haunted me as being familiar, but it all came to me on the ride home.”
“But I knew you right away,” said the boy half shyly, “although I did not like to make myself known, for, of course, I did not even know your name.”
“Or I yours,” laughed Nathalie. And then, with her mind filled with thoughts of the young English soldier, she told his story to Mr. Darrell, who immediately became so interested in Tommy Atkins, as he called him, that he begged Nathalie to let him go with her, quite assured, he declared, that he could be of some assistance to him.
Before the girl could reply a new voice suddenly shrilled, “Oh, Nathalie, how do you do? Did you come up here to call on us?”
The girl, thus addressed, stared with some bewilderment, to see her two New York schoolmates hurrying towards her. They looked very fetching in their modish golf-costumes, with their bags slung carelessly over their shoulders, as each one seized her hand and shook it cordially, while smiling down upon her in a most friendly and chummy way.
For a full second the girl simply stared, dazed and confused, as it suddenly flashed into her consciousness that the last time she had met these girls they had snubbed her, deliberately turning their backs upon her, when she greeted them, the day she had come to the hotel to leave the sweet peas. Ah, a sudden red leaped into Nathalie’s cheeks, her eyes flamed angrily, and she was about to return their snub by turning her back upon them, for she had intuitively divined that they were nice to her because they wanted to be introduced to her friends. Yes, they wanted to know the soldier-boy.
But something deep within the girl, her finer nature, whispered, “Never mind, ignore their slight, and show that you are above them by acting the lady.” With simple dignity the girl coolly returned their effusive greeting, and then, with cold formality, introduced them to her two friends. Oh, how delighted they were to meet Miss Van Vorst; they had heard all about her from a friend of hers,—Nita never was able to discover this friend. Then, turning from Nita as quickly as possible, they made an onslaught upon the soldier lad. Oh, how pleased they were to meet him, they had been just wild to know him ever since they had sighted his uniform. Was he a New York guardsman? What regiment did he belong to? These and a score of similar questions were quickly hurled at the young man, somewhat to his embarrassment. Nathalie could not hear all they said as she chattered with Nita, but vaguely realized, as they rattled on, with an angry flutter of her heart, that they were again ignoring her, as she heard them urging Mr. Darrell to join them at a game of golf.